


The Cottage

by kateyboosh



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Baby Boosh, Banter, Domesticity, First Times, Fluff, Forget shrinking one shirt in the wash, Frottage at the cottage, Getting in touch with nature, Harm is done to Julian's wardrobe, If they’d have gone to this cottage irl they’d have ended up married just @ me about it, Julian is a fair lady, Julian’s hands as a recurring theme, M/M, Mischief and monkey business because that’s my mo, Nature’s probably the fourth character, Noel’s the knight in shining armor, Okay bye I'm getting out of the tags now, Red Thread of Fate, Smut, The cottage setting that haunts my dreams, The weather is practically the third character in this fic, a tiny bit of angst, noelian - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24704350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kateyboosh/pseuds/kateyboosh
Summary: "The idea had popped into his head during an interview after a show. It happened during the last question they’d been asked, about future ambitions and plans, as Noel fidgeted and swiped his hair out of his eyes and scraped his chair closer to Julian’s. Well. It hadn’t exactly popped into his head at that moment. It was more like the six words he had been thinking for the past few months had popped out of his mouth unconstrained, jolted loose as Noel bumped his coltish knee into Julian’s: 'I’m going to rent a cottage.'"A tribute to my love for Baby Boosh, “Once you come in, you can never leave”/”That’s alright, I haven’t got much on anyway,” and the fact that Julian wanted to rent them a cottage seriously enough that He Actually Physically Said This Out Loud in Front of People During an Interview. In Real Life. Fluff and smut and first times, tied up with a red thread.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding
Comments: 23
Kudos: 13





	1. 100 Years Ago

**Author's Note:**

> Subtitled: Boys in the Wood
> 
> Developed with tacks and yarn and love, fueled by a lot of late night feels fests and shared headcanons with my fandom partner in crime, [MamaZoom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaZoom/pseuds/MamaZoom). MZ lovingly listened to me ping-pong back and forth about this thing for half a year and put up with months of my stalling at writing The Big Scene. MZ also encouraged me to stop stalling and write the damn thing, so I stalled and the shower scene happened. And, MZ wanted aloe and ice lollies and mentions of minotaurs, and MZ gets what MZ wants. MZ, I can't thank you enough. <3
> 
> One of my goals writing this fic was to level up my smut abilities. It ain't easy climbing capital S capital M Smut Mountain wearing platform boots; the journey's treacherous and fair warning, I've slid back into the safe protection of the fluff bushes more than once. (Yes, I live in those bushes and I venture out every now and again.) 
> 
> This fic has been a journey. The idea of the cottage has haunted me for a long time; this fic took five months and one day of writing and editing, and I felt every last one of them. I loved it, I hated it, and now, I adore it. I sincerely hope you do too.

_"Went out walkin' through the wood the other day  
And the world was a carpet laid before me  
The buds were bursting and the air smelled sweet and strange  
Seemed about a hundred years ago" _

[ 100 Years Ago - the Rolling Stones ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSK-LxIgTtM)

The sun’s rapidly falling below the horizon. It’s getting dark, but not quite dusk, and they’re driving down a winding, bumpy road, trees thick with summer leaves dotting each side of the path. Julian squints in the half-darkness, peering ahead and trying to correct around the more obvious holes in the cracked road while Noel dozes in the passenger seat next to him. Julian switched the radio off a few turns back, after Noel insisted he was wide awake, Julian, he wasn’t falling asleep, Julian, he was more alert than a rabbit on diet pills running round the countryside pushing squirrels over for their acorns, Julian. _Imagine that! We have to work that into the show, Julian._ He didn’t have to take his eyes off the road to confirm, didn’t even have to respond to ask what rabbits would want with piles of acorns anyway; the trail off into silence combined with deep, quiet breathing gave Noel away.

Julian takes his foot off the pedal and lets the car coast down a particularly rough stretch of road, gently braking as they come to a curve. Nearly there. A small smile plays around the corners of his lips as he remembers Noel’s enthusiastic response upon learning where they’d be spending the next two weeks. Once he’d gotten enough breath back in his lungs to extricate himself from the vice grip Noel had clamped around his ribs, he showed his comedy partner the rental ad for the cottage.

The idea had popped into his head during an interview after a show. It happened during the last question they’d been asked, about future ambitions and plans, as Noel fidgeted and swiped his hair out of his eyes and scraped his chair closer to Julian’s. Well. It hadn’t exactly popped into his head at that moment. It was more like the six words he had been thinking for the past few months had popped out of his mouth unconstrained, jolted loose as Noel bumped his coltish knee into Julian’s: “I’m going to rent a cottage.”

After seeing the confused but intrigued look on Noel’s face out of the corner of his eye, Julian had quickly changed the subject, rambling about mike nights and things they wanted to try out around the comedy clubs, trying to cover his slip with a stream of less innocuous, more career-driven words. Noel didn’t bring it up afterwards. Julian hoped he’d chalk it up to one of his darting phrases, tossed out by the handful, designed to be amusing and distracting.

Once Julian had verbalized the thought in March, the idea of the cottage wouldn’t leave him alone. He’d find it passing through the thread of his thoughts at night before he fell asleep, peppering the space between consciousness and dreams like the pebbles children used as skipping stones on a smooth pond. Never an easy sleeper, it would wake him in the mornings, too, his first thought of the cottage reaching his surfacing brain like the sound of a soft handful of gravel dashed against a glass window. The two of them, a few weeks away from the pull of the city and obligations and stress and people and phone calls and gigs and interviews - it seemed obvious to take a break and focus on writing for future projects, far away from distractions.

One night before a gig a few months later, Julian is restless before going on, waiting for Noel to finish getting ready. He’s absently leafing through an assortment of dog-eared flyers and tattered brochures pulled off of bulletin boards, ready for the bin but not quite there yet. He nearly flips past it: a crisp picture of a solidly built but quaint stone cottage, moss sprinkled along the rooftop, trailing ivy and vines creeping down the outer walls, the hint of a lush back garden and an explosion of multicolored hydrangeas around the front step. The banner at the top of the ad reads “Cheshire Summer Rentals,” followed by a few lines touting fully furnished rentals and complete privacy in idyllic, quiet locations. 

Julian doesn’t read any further. He folds the flyer methodically into a neat square, tucks it into his pocket, and calls the number first thing the next morning.

* 

Julian pulls the car up the winding driveway, tires crunching softly on gravel. The headlights play over the worn gray stone front of the cottage, glinting off the windowpanes before Julian cuts the ignition. He squints in the space of the sudden darkness, dusk falling silently over the bushes and flowerbeds.

His eyes adjust slowly as he gets out and stretches his legs. He follows the path up to the small front porch, brushing a dangling vine away from his face. The key is tucked under the corner of the doormat, where he’d arranged for the rental agent to leave it that morning. He considers unlocking the door and turning the lights on before waking Noel. He walks back to the car instead, gingerly opening the passenger door and crouching down before putting his hand on Noel’s knee. 

He’s curled into himself on the seat, head lolling loosely, one arm draped over his stomach. He’s still breathing deeply even though the car’s stopped moving. 

“Noel?” Julian lightly squeezes his knee as he leans forward in the direction of his ear. “Noel, wake up.”

He knows Noel’s awake, but pretending to be in a deep sleep. His eyes have adjusted enough to the darkness and he can make out the smile spreading across Noel’s face.

“We're here. Let’s go inside and check the place out.” 

“Mmm? I can’t hear you, Ju. ‘M still asleep.” 

The moonlight catches Julian's grin. “Oh, right, of course. I’ll just grab the bags out of the boot, head inside to a comfortable, luxurious rest on a king-sized feather bed, and leave you to your peaceful upright slumber. Looks comfortable. Really, I envy you.” He pats Noel twice on the knee and stands. “Okay, see you in the morning, then.”

Noel’s smile grows as he stretches and yawns and pulls at the hem of his t-shirt, flexing his ankles out straight to press his toes deep into the floor mat. “Alright, alright, I’m up. Bit cramped from being in the car so long.” 

Noel pauses for a drawn-out yawn, which he punctuates with a full-on cheeky grin, flashing his eyes up at Julian. “Don’t know if I can make it up there after being shut in here for hours on end,” he says, tilting his head towards the cottage and then back to the car. “I’ve gone all petrified. Stiff."

Julian smirks back. “Is that right? Well, I suppose I could put the suitcases in one hand and sling you over my shoulder with the other. Come on, then, your majesty. Hope I don’t drop you." His tone is all business, but his eyes are glowing with suppressed laughter as he reaches for Noel’s hand and drops the key to the front door into his palm.

They cross the threshold together, Noel stepping tentatively onto the porch, ducking down to better see to unlock the door in the dark, Julian carrying their suitcases in both hands, one tucked under his arm. Noel flicks the light switch.

The interior is just as quaint as the exterior - rough, exposed beams cross the low ceiling, comfortably worn leather furniture clusters around a dark wooden coffee table, and a large stone fireplace graces one of the soft cream walls. There’s firewood piled nearby, a wooden bookcase that reaches to the ceiling packed with volumes, and an old padlocked trunk with studded leather straps set against the back wall. The hallway leading to the kitchen is striped with pink wallpaper and the wooden floors are smooth and worn.

Julian raises his brows in appraisal and gestures towards the sitting room. 

“So? Posh enough for you, then?” 

Noel stalls, walking further into the room as Julian drops their suitcases by the side of the sofa. He peers at the sketches framed on the walls and trails his hand along the spines of the books on the shelves, trying to hide his excitement. The smile on his face is glowing brighter than the lamp bulbs, reflected back to Julian in a heavy gilt mirror hanging on the wall. 

"I don’t know, Ju. Seems a bit…plain? Dull? Lacklustre, even?” he manages to get out. He’s biting the tip of his thumb, trying to purse his lips around it to hold back his smile.

He turns around abruptly, clamping his arms around Julian’s middle, leaning his head into Julian’s chest. “Really, Julian, it’s amazing,” he breathes. 

One of Julian’s hands comes up reflexively to the back of Noel’s neck, the other resting in the dip of his back. He sets his cheek on top of Noel’s head for a moment, rubbing his thumb along Noel’s jaw as he feels him relax against his chest.

He can feel the soft flutter of Noel’s breath rushing against his skin, his chest expanding against Julian's with every inhale. Julian swallows thickly. 

“Hey, let’s go find something to eat… sooner we do, sooner you can get back to your beauty sleep. Can't be seen writing with bags under our eyes." Even as he says this, he pulls Noel in closer, gently brushing his fingers through the strands of hair on the nape of his neck. Julian pauses when he feels Noel holding his breath, and reluctantly lets him go, taking him by the hand and leading him down the hall to the kitchen instead.

*

The kitchen is as charming as the sitting room. A tiled floor leads to white wooden cabinets and buttery yellow painted trim. There's a broom closet in the corner, and a large paned glass window over the sink that overlooks the back garden. The countertops are tidy, almost bare except for small pots of lavender and aloe, and the fruit bowl in the center of the kitchen island is empty. 

Julian swings the fridge door open, then closes it and opens it again, hoping for a different result. It’s as empty as the countertops, the cold glow of the light reflecting starkly off the shelves. At the same time, Noel discovers the cupboards are full of dishes and mugs in soft blues and greens. Tucked away in the highest cupboard under a thick layer of dust is one dented can with most of the label peeled off, and a few wilted tea bags.

Julian grimaces and pats the front pocket of his jeans, searching for the rental ad. Of course it’s not there. “Shit. Didn’t the ad say ‘fully furnished?’ As in, furniture and a fully stocked kitchen?”

Noel hops up to sit on the island, ignoring the tall gray chairs tucked around the opposite side. He’s swinging his legs, his bare heels making dull thuds as he rolls the mystery canned good between his hands while Julian paces. 

“Fully furnished… does that mean food or just furniture? Shit. I think it means just furniture. There’s no food, so it must mean just furniture. Shit! The village is twenty minutes away, probably half an hour finding it in the dark, and who knows how late they stay open there-”

Noel sticks his foot out and catches Julian by a belt loop, snapping him out of his monologue as he pulls him closer. “Julian. It’s alright, really… it’s an easy enough mistake. We can wait til morning to go out.” He gleefully brandishes the dusty can. “Let’s see if we can find a can opener and take our chances on this til then.”

Julian eyes it with a healthy dose of suspicion, squinting to read the expiration date and pulling a face. “I have to get one more suitcase from the boot. There has to be something left in the glovebox that won’t melt our eyelids off.” He steps in between Noel’s dangling legs, resting his palms on either side of Noel’s thighs on the cool island countertop. “Have a look around upstairs while I’m gone. Maybe there's something left over from 1942 hidden in a trunk up there.” 

Noel giggles as Julian presses a kiss to his temple. “Check under the seats, too, Ju. I might’ve dropped some of the stuff we picked up at the petrol station."

*

 _Banister’s no good for sliding_ is Noel’s first thought as he climbs, his hand sweeping along the thin curving railings coming up to wipe at his tired eyes. His second thought is to find a light switch. It’s dark on the second floor landing, and the light reflecting up from the sitting room isn’t helping much. He takes a few steps into the hallway and feels a cord brush against his forehead before he can explore further. 

Stepping back, he pulls on the cord. No light. He pulls harder. Nothing. One more try, and no light, but a pulldown ladder pops out from the ceiling. 

“Wow,” he breathes out softly, unfolding the ladder and peering up into the attic before putting a foot on the bottom rung.

*

Julian negotiates up the porch with the largest and heaviest suitcase, a slightly soft chocolate bar he found hiding under the passenger seat tucked into his front pocket. A suspect package of cream crackers he unearthed from a tangle of maps and aspirin bottles and napkins and notepads shoved into the glovebox dangle between his teeth. He drops the suitcase by the others and lets the crackers fall out of his mouth into his outstretched hand as toes off his shoes. His limbs are starting to feel heavier as he climbs to the still-dark second floor, but he grins when he reaches the landing and sees the attic ladder, hearing footfalls above his head.

“Noel? You up there? I brought us the meal of champions: crackers of dubious origin and melted chocolate.” 

Noel calls back, voice bubbling over with excitement. 

“Julian! You’ve got to come up here and see this! It’s amazing! Come on, get up here already!”

Julian can’t figure out what’s so exciting about a dark, dusty old attic, but he climbs the stairs anyway, package of crackers back between his teeth. Noel’s not in the attic when he unfolds himself in the small space. He feels a slight breeze, steps around an old rocking horse and a wardrobe that reaches nearly to the low ceiling, and finds an unlatched window leading out to the roof.

Noel’s sitting crosslegged on a small, flat section of the roof dotted with moss, grinning up at Julian as he steps out over the sill to join him.

“Amazing, right?”

Julian raises a brow. 

“Mmm. I don’t know. Looks a bit boring… not very realistic. Like a film set. ‘Dull’ and ‘lacklustre,’ one might say.”

The view overlooks the tumbling back garden, lush with flowerbeds, soft strands of trailing ivy, and thickly leaved trees. Wicker chairs and a chaise lounge surround a scattering of potted plants and tangled clusters of rosebushes by the back door. There are crumbling stone walls running through the backyard up to the border of the woods, along with a bird bath, a haphazardly tilted sundial, and another spill of round, vibrant hydrangeas. The night breeze is soft, and it smells fresh and green from the sun warming the earth and the grass during the day. It’s nothing short of lovely.

Julian rests his hand behind Noel’s back, leaning on one arm, and offers him some of the crackers. “Now these, on the other hand? Majestic. A true work of art. Like balm to a tired soul. Possibly older than this cottage itself.” 

He coughs a bit as he bites into one, immediately turning to toss the package onto the window sill. “Certainly older than this cottage, and stale."

Noel bites his lip to suppress a giggle as he sneaks the chocolate bar out of Julian’s pocket. Julian’s hand comes to rest behind Noel's hip when he turns back. Noel scoots closer until they’re pressed hip to hip, knee to knee, and Julian puts his arm fully around him. They’re quiet, sharing melty chocolate from the wrapper balanced on Julian’s thigh as the breeze blows and wispy clouds unfurl in the distance.

Noel licks his fingers clean. The moonlight peeking out from between the clouds illuminates the measured rise and fall of his chest as he takes deep breaths of the cool night air, settling in to Julian's shoulder.

Julian nudges at him gently. “Hey, now. Don’t fall asleep up here. Next thing you know, you’ll end up with a bat in your hair, dangling by your fingertips right above those rosebushes.”

Noel smiles, his hand creeping up to rest on Julian’s thigh, crinkling the chocolate wrapper. “Wouldn’t happen. Country bats are too well mannered. We’d come to an understanding, make friends, go out on the town, get in all the papers. It'd be the newest trend, nocturnal mammal chic."

Julian chuckles back. “That’s good. We should use that. Write it down at some point."

He’s tired enough from the drive combined with the disappointment of the bare kitchen that he could probably fall asleep up here himself, never mind starting any work. Now that it’s just the two of them here, he wants these two weeks away to be… something. Something significant. Something-

When his brain won’t supply the correct adjective, he leans down to press a soft, slow kiss to Noel’s lips instead. Noel hums and turns to him, his hand a warm weight on Julian’s thigh as he parts his lips. Julian cups the back of his head and deepens the kiss, reaching to pull him closer in the small, flat space.

When they hear a loose shingle clatter down the roof into the garden below, landing in the vicinity of the rosebushes, Julian pulls his tongue back into his own mouth before they break apart. Noel sheepishly brings a hand to ruffle through the hair at his crown. The other gestures at the front of Julian’s jeans where he’s ground the melted chocolate from the wrapper deep into the fabric. He grimaces out a, “Sorry, Ju,” around his giggle.

Julian can only shake his head and swat playfully at Noel’s rear as they climb over the window sill back into the attic.

*

Neither of them make it to the bed on the first night. Or the next few nights.

Heavy-limbed and heavy-lidded, they head downstairs to pull toothbrushes and a change of clothes out of their suitcases. Julian runs his stained jeans under cold water in the kitchen sink. He considers wringing out the wet denim, then leaves it to soak in the basin overnight, padding barelegged back to the living room to wait for Noel before they head upstairs to the bedroom.

He stretches out on the soft leather sofa as Noel runs a glass of water from the tap in the kitchen. The leg room is decent, and his head sinks back into the padded arm just right as he listens to Noel’s quiet movements in the kitchen.

Noel finds him asleep by the time he comes back. He looks to the leather armchair on the other side of the coffee table, then flicks the lights and crosses to the sofa. He lies down carefully, filling the spaces made by Julian’s loose limbs, snuggling in to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “G’night, Ju. See you in the morning,” he whispers. He closes his eyes and settles his head over Julian’s heart. 

*

They’re both sore the next morning from the time spent in the car, capped off by their unintentionally long rest on the sofa. They make a late start, driving into the village for a quick bite to eat at a cafe, then head to pick up food for the week at the market.

By the time they get back and fully furnish the house, stocking the cupboards, fridge, and fruit bowl, neither feels much like jumping straight into writing. There’s still the rest of the upstairs and the back garden to explore, which leads to the pair meandering around outside for an afternoon walk through the thick trees at the rear of the cottage, spotting birds and squirrels darting along the low stone wall, but no acorn-stealing rabbits. 

When they do head back inside and settle down to try to write, notepads and pens and markers end up quickly scattered on the coffee table and the floor. They end up asleep on the sofa again, tangled together in the dull glow from the laptop screen, Julian’s face pressed into the back of Noel’s neck, his hand draped over Noel’s stomach.

When they wake up the next morning, stiff and sore again, stretching out against each other’s bodies, they swear that they’ll actually sleep in the bed upstairs tonight; they won’t write til all hours, they’ll give a warning sign when one starts to get drowsy. They don’t. 

Without distractions, they write until one of them looks over to find the other dropped off, laptop perched precariously or pen dangling between loosely gripped fingers. This routine breaks about the same time the weather does.

*

A summer heatwave creeps in on the fourth morning they wake twined together on the sofa. Despite the unplanned and sometimes uncomfortable sleeping arrangements, Julian’s rested deeply each night, waking with his mind fresh. 

He comes to suddenly from a dream, the first one he can remember having since they've been at the cottage. It dips into the corners of his vision, sliding out of reach as he tries to pull it back into focus.

He gingerly unsticks himself from the leather and from Noel’s grip on his t-shirt, trying to ignore the uncomfortable, heavy stillness of the air and his cock, half-hard in his pants. He moves to open the windows in the hopes of a breeze, but it feels as humid and sticky outdoors as it does in. When the air touches his skin, he remembers hands sliding over his body, the scorching press of lips to the base of his throat, the feeling of tautly stretched muscle under his fingertips. 

He clears his throat as Noel mumbles in his sleep, his hand hanging loose over the edge of the sofa. 

He runs the shower as cold as his skin can take.

*

The heat wears on both of them. After a pair of productive days, they find it hard to concentrate, their writing streak fizzling under the unceasing press of the air. Noel fidgets more than usual as they lazily bat ideas back and forth, Julian getting up to pace when he can’t stand sitting still another minute longer.

Noel halfheartedly fans himself with a notepad, the pages flopping back and forth in his limp grip as Julian paces in front of him. “Ju? You’re making it worse, going back and forth like a caged animal. We’ve got a lot done so far, let’s take a break.”

Julian wipes his hand across his face and stops pacing, then reaches down to help Noel off the floor where he’s sprawled out in an old t-shirt and his tennis shorts. “Let’s get out of this room and get something more substantial to eat than ice lollies. Boil some water for tea, bake some bread in the fireplace, put a nice roast in the oven for the next six hours.” Noel barks a laugh, too hot and sticky to do much more.

When Julian puts a pot of water on to boil, Noel gives him a look like his brain has finally melted in the heat. He grabs the second-to-last ice lolly out of the freezer, letting the cool air spill down his body, luxuriating in the feeling. Julian stops his search in the cupboards to watch him arch his slim body upwards towards the freezer, a stripe of pale skin peeking out beneath the hem of his t-shirt. Noel sticks his face as close to the freezer opening as he can without putting his entire head in, trapping his voice in the space. 

“I’m going out for a minute before I end up melted into a puddle of goo on the floor. Why are you boiling water, again?” 

“I don’t know. I just really wanted some pasta,” Julian responds, looking away quickly as Noel shuts the freezer door. He shrugs as he shucks his damp t-shirt off. He feels the flush sliding across his cheeks as he pulls it past his face. He drapes the shirt carefully over the edge of the sink.

“You’re a masochist,” Noel grins, licking at his ice lolly. He pauses as Julian turns back toward the cupboard, eyeing the movement of his shoulders and the dimples in his back as he reaches up for a box. 

“There’s one of these left if you change your mind,” he says, running his cool tongue over his top lip and his eyes all over Julian. He walks backwards almost the entire way out of the kitchen as Julian aimlessly fishes in the cupboard.

When he hears the screen door shut, Julian turns and dumps half a box of pasta into the pot, gives it a halfhearted stir, and retreats away from the radiating heat. He can see Noel wandering around through the window over the sink, cupping one of the cool, round hydrangea blooms under his palm, his ice lolly wedged in his cheek. He pulls his t-shirt away from his body, fanning air underneath. Julian watches him calculate the distance he'll need to cover to drag the chaise to a shady spot, his hand coming up to scrape through his hair.

He heads for the willow that borders the woods, but wilts under the heat before he's halfway there, settling for a small patch of shade under a young oak tree in the center of the garden instead. He flops down bodily, one hand slung over his forehead shading his eyes, wiggling his foot as he sucks at his ice lolly. A tiny hint of a breeze stirs the leaves in the tree overhead before dying out.

Julian can feel the heat creeping towards him, winding humid fingers around his torso and arms and up his neck, the air oppressive. He meanders away from the range and catches himself beginning to pace again as he listens to the water rolling. He stops moving, closes his eyes and concentrates on the feeling of the cool tiles underneath his bare feet instead.

Julian breathes in deeply, opening his eyes to peer out at Noel as he finishes off his ice lolly, sliding it into his mouth to reach the last bit left on the stick. He leans over the chaise and puts the stick upright in the grass, then peels his t-shirt off and tosses it nearby, reclining back in the chaise in his shorts.

The heat’s really getting to Julian now. He turns the tap on to cold and cups his hands underneath, splashing his face. Stray drops of water from the spray come to rest in his hair, hitting his chest and sliding down his wrists. He lets the water run for a good minute or two, maybe longer, splashing at his neck, finally blinking the droplets out of his lashes. He’s faintly aware of a hissing noise and remembers the pasta just as it foams over the pot.

Julian sprints to turn it off and knocks his t-shirt into the sink, soaking it. He nearly burns his hands trying to remove the pot. Baking in the radiating heat, he takes a look at the pasta, then at his t-shirt floating limply in the cold water, then at Noel, sun-dappled in the chaise outside. He strides to the freezer for the last ice lolly, tossing the wrapper in the direction of the countertop as he bites down a quarter in one go and exits the hot kitchen.

*

Noel’s stretched out dreamily in the sun. One arm is above his head, his palm turned up, fingers curled in like he’s collecting stray rays of sunshine. _Perfect._

Julian bolts the rest of his ice lolly, his mouth numbed from eating it so quickly, and pitches the stick in the grass. Noel opens an eye as he approaches. Despite the heat, he slides over in the chaise, making room for Julian to press in sideways. 

"How was your pasta? Hot as the face of the sun?” Noel mumbles.

“Didn’t have it,” Julian responds, a wily, wicked grin on his face as he dives to press his cold mouth to Noel’s sun-warmed neck.

“Ah, that’s cold! Get off!” Noel’s eyes shoot open as he squeaks and squirms away, his voice cracking with surprised delight. Julian laughs and presses his mouth back down. 

Later on, neither can pinpoint the moment that Julian’s teasing shifts from something playful into something serious. Maybe it’s when the swift presses of his cold mouth against Noel’s neck start to feel more like lingering kisses. Maybe it’s when he adds the cool slide of his tongue, swirling around the sheen of sweat glossed on Noel’s skin. Maybe it’s when Julian feels Noel’s body slide from tensed surprise to melty and pliant, pressing his back down into the chaise as he cants his hips upward, seeking Julian’s touch.

Maybe it’s when Julian lifts himself over Noel, pausing to look at his lust-flushed face, his hair glittering in the sunlight, his lips wet and parted before he meets them in a crushing kiss. After that, after days of writing, they don’t need words. 

Julian’s fully hard by then, Noel’s hands gripping at his biceps as he meets Julian's kiss, his lips sweet. Julian can't wait; he wants all of him at once, the feeling burning through his body. He grinds through his jeans on Noel’s bare stomach; Noel moans into his mouth at the feeling of the rough denim and the hot press of Julian’s cock. He inhales sharply, temporarily forgetting how to kiss back. Julian grins, lowering himself to grind directly into Noel's rapidly filling cock through his tennis shorts.

With frantic hands, Noel reaches down between them and unzips Julian, tugging his jeans down over his arse, his fingers tangling in his belt loops and back pockets. He freezes when Julian braces himself on one arm to pull Noel’s shorts down as far as he can get them in the cramped space. Julian doesn’t hesitate, his hand wrapping around Noel’s cock before he can catch his breath. 

Noel feels seared by their combined body heat. The sudden pleasure skating through his veins as he rocks his hips up, pushing his cock sloppily into Julian’s fist, is dizzying. He’s sure he’s going to leave ten perfectly formed bruises on Julian’s arse if he hangs onto him any tighter. He groans and screws his eyes shut, trying to loosen his grip, sliding his hands up to the dimples on Julian’s back, finding the ridges of his spine, anchoring himself to each of Julian’s breaths. 

He brings a seeking hand around towards Julian’s cock, matching his strokes, his burning pace, Julian’s breathing coming quicker now. He knows he’s going to combust when he feels Julian shudder out a breath, then pause and move closer. He feels Julian’s cock brush hot and achingly hard against his as he reaches to join his hand around their shafts.

Noel bucks his hips up, mouth open and eyes wide as he comes undone, his entire body shaking, Julian’s bitten-off moan as he follows igniting the sparks spilling over his body. He pulls Julian down on top of him, his hands twisting in the curls at the back of Julian’s neck as Julian slips his tongue into his mouth. 

After, they’re both quiet, trying to slow their breathing, reeling in the delirious combination of heat and closeness and post-orgasm haze. When he feels like he’s returned to the earth enough to move, Julian reaches over the side of the chaise to wipe his hand in the grass, swirling his fingers through the blades. He presses a lazy, sated kiss to the base of Noel’s throat as he turns onto his side, doing up his fly and letting the air cool the sweat between them. Noel rolls his head loosely on his neck, dropping a series of soft, swollen-lipped kisses to Julian’s mouth in return as he tucks himself back in his shorts.

Neither wants to get up and break the moment, lose the feeling of skin against skin, which is how they end up asleep in the chaise in the afternoon sun, Julian’s head tucked up into Noel’s neck and his hand spread across Noel’s ribs, Noel’s hand curled on Julian’s back.

*

Julian moans throatily. Noel echoes him, moaning louder and longer, his cheek pressed into the cool tile, hands splayed out above his head. Julian moans outrageously, trying to prolong the sound, and dissolves into riotous giggles halfway through. Noel follows suit, laughing hysterically, then breaks into a real moan. “Oh God, Ju, we’ve got to stop. It hurts to laugh,” he chokes out.

They’re lying on the floor of the upstairs bathroom, trying to distract each other from their misery. The chill from the cool tiles is temporary relief from the sunburn they both picked up during their impromptu afternoon nap. Julian’s on his burnt back with his ankles crossed and his arms pillowing his head, looking up at the ceiling like he’s stargazing. Noel’s on his burnt front with his ankles turned in, face slumped against the tile, running his fingers absently over the grout.

“You’re alright because it’s only your back,” Noel breathes. “I got burnt all down the front.” Half of his chest and all of his stomach and legs are a rosy pink where they’re pressed to the tile. The outline of skin where Julian’s hand fell during their nap glows white across his ribs in contrast. 

“You’re lucky for the shade, or it would have been your face wrinkled up like an old leather handbag. And you’re lucky for your little shorts, too,” Julian returns. His back is bright red except for the small outline of Noel’s handprint clinging to his skin.

Noel tries to muster up outrage but falls short as he squirms closer to Julian. He giggles out an amused, “How dare you” as his breath catches at the chill of the cooler tiles on his flushed skin. “You’re lucky it was only my back, or we would have been finished,” Julian continues. “Everyone knows it’s really my face that keeps us getting gigs.”

“Ju! Stop making me laugh, it’s making it worse!” Noel spirals fully into giggles and winces, pressing his fingers into the floor. 

It’s not the worst sunburn either have had, but it’s uncomfortable, and magnified by the nonstop heat curling in and hanging over them like a heavy wool blanket. They both go quiet for a moment, the only sound echoing around the hard surfaces of the bathroom their breathing and Noel drawing scratchy circles on the tile with his fingertips, fidgeting to find a comfortable position on the hard floor.

Julian unfolds an arm from behind his head, reaching out to take Noel’s hand after he sighs, resigned to his discomfort. “Think I’ve absorbed about all I can get out of the floor. I’ll get up in a minute and go get some aloe. Maybe after that, we can finally see what it feels like to sleep in a bed for the first time in a week,” he chuckles, running his thumb over Noel’s joints.

Noel gives him a small half-smile in agreement. Julian slips his other arm out from behind his head, settling his shoulders against the tile and drawing a deep breath. As uncomfortable as Noel feels, he knows Julian has to be hurting. The way they ended up falling asleep, with Julian half on top of him, he had the brunt of the sun on his back.

Noel traces the outline of Julian’s profile with his eyes: a stray curl against his forehead, the strong line of his brow, the slope of his nose, the warm pink of his lips. He watches the rise and fall of his chest, the way he keeps stroking his thumb over Noel’s hand. It’s soothing. Comforting. The gentle movement helps keep his mind off the hot, itchy, swarm-of-ants feeling prickling at his skin.

Noel drifts for a while, loosely concentrating on Julian’s fingers skating over his palm, thumb rubbing over his wrist. Julian’s good at bringing him back to himself like this in moments of upset or frustration or anxiety, knows how to reset his racing mind with the warm heft of his big hand.

It’s the same gentle, reassuring touch Julian gave him the night they wrote their first joke together, the first time they stayed up all night laughing together. There was a pause before they crossed the threshold, Noel’s hand resting tentative on the door. A hint at what he desperately wished would come, masked with a silly voice and a cheeky grin.

_“You must know, once you come in, you can never leave.”_

_The secret smile playing at Julian’s lips, the glow in his eyes seeing through it, pinning him where he stood, nervously toeing the pavement._

_“That’s alright, I haven’t got much on anyway.”_

_The first time they kissed, Noel’s heart beating up wildly from his chest, trying to escape out of his throat, Julian’s touch calming him, reassuring him, pulling him firmly back into the moment._

“Put us both together and you might be able to make up a whole person,” Julian says, sitting up and folding his long legs to press his knees to his chest. He’s still holding on to Noel’s hand, tracing over the bumps of his knuckles.

“Hmm?” Noel murmurs, blinking as he exits the trance of his memories, the feeling of Julian’s grinning lips pressed to his for the first time in the dark outside the flat lingering on his mouth.

“Leave off the sunburnt bits and you might be able to make up a whole person,” Julian clarifies. “Be a bit weird though. A bit Frankenstein’s monster. Come on, then.”

He squeezes Noel’s hand and helps him up from the floor.

*

The kitchen is dark and silent and warm. Julian’s abandoned t-shirt is floating sodden in the few inches of water standing in the sink, the pot of pasta gleaming on the countertop. There’s no shift in the air when Julian opens the back door to snap off a few aloe leaves from a large potted plant near the rosebushes. Noel slides open a drawer and sets a knife and cutting board on the counter, then hops up to sit next to Julian as he slices the leaves open.

Noel wrinkles his nose and peers down at the uncut aloe leaves left on the board, handing Julian a bowl. “They look weird… like green alien tentacles. You’re sure this is going to help?” He dips his pinky finger into the aloe in the bowl, poking at it, and pulls a laddish face, one eye closed, tongue sticking out.

“It’s all sticky, like glue. Like alien cum,” he giggles, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eye.

“You’ll love it,” Julian responds, rinsing his hands and shaking them dry over the sink, lowering his voice to gasp out, “All tacky, shouting ‘Yes! Yes! Cover me, cover me, coat me in the goo!’” He dries his palms on his jeans, then squishes a bit of aloe between his fingers, flicking them towards Noel’s bare stomach.

“No way, you first,” Noel says, backing up on the countertop until his head gently thuds against the cabinet. “If anyone’s getting mutated from alien goo, it’s you.” Julian chuckles and turns around. “Fine. You’ll see soon enough. Do my back, then.” 

Noel dips his fingers into the bowl, cups some aloe in his palm, and starts tentatively at the base of Julian’s neck. Julian’s standing very still, his muscles loose underneath Noel’s first touch to his reddened skin. With every gentle swipe down Julian’s back, Noel can feel him relaxing further, his muscles slackening. Noel’s fingers skate over his shoulders, brush across his ribs, slide down the dip of his spine. Julian hums in appreciation at Noel’s feather-light touches and spreads his stance a bit further between Noel’s dangling legs as he traces two fingers down Julian’s vertebrae.

Noel’s hand is hovering above Julian’s waistband and the dimples on his back when Julian turns to face him, head bowed. He starts to protest, but bites off his speech when he catches a glimpse of Julian’s lidded eyes, and feels the cool wetness from his aloe-covered fingertips slide down his stomach. He breathes in sharply, the sudden feeling of Julian’s callused fingers against his pink skin as shocking as his cold mouth on his neck a few hours earlier.

_As shocking as the first time Julian bustled him backstage after a gig, practically dragging him by one arm as he stumbled to catch up, pressing him against the makeshift dressing room door, his hands tearing at Noel’s zip, stroking him off frantically as they shared panted breaths, Julian high on adrenaline, triumphant and sweaty from the stage._

Julian makes quick work of Noel’s chest and stomach with his big, gentle hands, coating his skin with a soothing layer of aloe. He swipes teasingly under the waistband of Noel’s tennis shorts with his thumb, grinning when Noel squirms. “Told you you’d like it,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees and pulling Noel to a standing position against the counter as he runs his aloe-coated hands down Noel’s sunburnt thighs and calves.

Noel’s half-aware of a trickle of sweat running down behind his ear, combined with the fact that he’s leaving sticky fingerprints on the countertop and the pull of one of the drawers. Julian has one hand around his ankle and one resting right below the curve of his arse. He grips on for dear life when Julian leans forward, placing his hands on Noel’s hips, and blows a breath onto the aloe drying down the inside of his thigh. Teasing. Testing the limits. Noel bites his lip.

 _The first time Julian pinned him against the wall in the shower of the flat like this, sliding down to his knees, a hand on either side of Noel’s hips as he lapped at him before taking him into his mouth, rivulets of water running down the hollows of his cheeks._

Noel hasn’t even finished shivering, his temporarily cooled skin starting to feel warm all over again, when Julian stands.

“Okay, I’m going to clean up in here, and then go to bed. Toss the rest of that in the fridge, will you?” he says, nodding towards the stalks of aloe on the cutting board, reaching into the sink to wring out his t-shirt and drape it over the faucet.

Noel gawks at him, clinging to the countertop as Julian breezes by with a sponge to clean up the starchy pasta spillover. He blinks dumbly, trying to come back down to the warm kitchen as Julian dumps the cooking water into the sink and the ruined pasta into the bin. The cool air from the fridge on his bare skin helps clear his head a bit as he leans in to find a place for the aloe, but his skin tingles again when Julian rests a hand on the small of his back.

*

For the first time during their stay, they go up to the bedroom to sleep. Noel peels off his tennis shorts and tosses them in the direction of the rocking chair in the corner as Julian drops his jeans at the foot of the bed. They find themselves in positions reversed from earlier on the bathroom floor, lying on top of the cool cotton sheets. Julian’s on his stomach with his head propped on the pillows on the right side of the bed, and Noel’s on his back, letting the last of the aloe dry in the warm air on the left.

Once his body sinks into the mattress, Noel desperately wants to sleep. He feels tired but wired, his energy sapped by the sun as his brain manages to do cartwheels back through their firsts again.

_The first time he had Julian underneath him on the sofa in the flat as he pumped Julian’s cock, his brow furrowed and eyes squeezed shut as he came, throwing his head back, mouth open, choking out Noel’s name in two drawn-out syllables._

_The first time he felt Julian’s hand cupping the back of his head, guiding him as he built up a sloppy rhythm, sucking him off and moaning at Julian’s hitching breaths, the hard kitchen floor biting into his knees through his jeans._

_The first time he felt Julian’s lube-slicked palm circling his cock, felt his wet fingers moving lower, felt himself draw back. “You don’t-?” Julian managed to get out, pulling back before Noel surged forward, crushing his lips in a kiss, hand hot and urgent on Julian’s cock._

_“You don’t want to? You don’t have to?” Noel didn’t stop to think about how the sentence was going to end, didn’t know how else to react, couldn’t bear for Julian to think he didn’t want him. Just because he wasn’t ready to cross what he considered the final boundary between them didn’t diminish how intensely he felt for Julian. He tried to tell him with every gasp, every press of his hot, wet mouth to his neck, every twist of his wrist and pump of his fist._

_After, he felt shy and awkward and tongue-tied, felt like he’d shrink down to nothing if he had to put it into words in front of Julian, felt like he’d be left behind in the cold after tarnishing their relationship, after breaking the magic of their bond. No matter that they were both lying naked and entwined, and he was covered in Julian’s cum and sweat and saliva._

_Julian reached down, found his t-shirt and wiped them both clean, then pulled Noel close, one hand cradling his head. He whispered in his ear, hand running in broad strokes down Noel’s back, the understanding and sincerity in his voice uncurling the knots in Noel’s stomach. “Hey. I’m sorry. It’s alright. We’re alright. You don’t have to; we don’t ever have to.”_

His brain still pokes at him, still furnishes him with that memory at the worst times, fuels his self-doubt. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready. _Yeah, I wasn’t ready, then,_ he reminds his brain as he huffs and squirms against the sheets.

He stills. He wasn’t ready, then. Now? He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be, as long as Julian is there with him. Lying giggling and sunburnt on the bathroom floor, hungry and tired and close to falling off a roof, waking up stiff and sore and stuck to a sweaty leather sofa.

Julian sighs next to him as he rolls out of bed and crosses the room to open the small window, seeking any relief from the hot, still blanket of air draped over the bedroom. The night sounds floating in, Noel reaches for Julian’s hand when he slides back onto the mattress, tugging him closer, until they’re sharing one pillow. They’re close enough to feel the warmth radiating from the other’s skin without touching.

Noel swallows, eyes shut, fingers of his other hand twisting in the cool cotton of the sheets.

“Julian?”

His voice comes out quiet, shy, bashful. Julian hears it after just one word, he can tell. Before he can stop, veer back and pretend it never happened, Julian squeezes Noel’s hand and eyes him drowsily before settling his head down on Noel’s chest, careful to avoid his sunburn. “Mmm?” he returns, the deep vibration from his throat ticklish.

The beat of Noel’s heart in his throat finally pushes the words out. He feels like he’s stumbling over them, just a kid with stars in his eyes and his hair on backwards.

“Ju? I was thinking, while we’re here. I want to, um. I want to try. I mean, not now, obviously, not when we’re both tired and sunburnt, but… I’m ready, Julian.”

Once the words are out, his stomach feels less like he’s at the top of a rollercoaster, just before the drop. He feels _lighter_ as he breathes in. Calmer.

Julian lifts his head up from Noel’s chest. His eyes are warm, and he’s smiling gently as he brushes a strand of hair out of Noel’s face and leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Neither take the kiss further. It’s an acknowledgement, an assurance, a promise.

When Julian lies his head back down on Noel’s chest, sliding his hand slowly into the patch of unburnt skin over his ribs and fanning his fingers out to press lightly, the roaring fire of anxious thoughts in Noel’s head settle down to a gentle smoulder. They fall asleep with each other’s hands slotting into position, Noel’s handprint on Julian’s back, Julian’s handprint on Noel’s chest.

*

It’s a long few days recovering from their sunburn, knowing what’s waiting ahead of them.

The heat teases them, pulling back in the evenings for a few hours. They spend the time wandering around the back garden, breathing in the fresh air in relief after being cooped up in the house during daylight hours. It’s deceptive. The heat comes back and lingers over them during the day like a heavy, stagnant cloud prickling across their skin.

After the first day, they’re able to distract themselves from the discomfort by jumping back into writing and drawing and following the intertwining trails of their creative thoughts. And the aloe in the garden is plentiful.

When Noel gets up to poke through the kitchen cabinets and comes back to perch on the arm of the sofa with a bowl full of aloe instead of snacks, Julian looks up from the laptop and gestures distractedly.

“It is edible. Don’t know if I’d try it myself. Not without a spoon, at least.”

Noel huffs out a laugh and traces his toe along a groove in the floorboard, trying to act nonchalant.

Since his realization and the acknowledgement of their decision the other night, he’s felt a little shy around Julian. Echoes of their first meeting and his need to impress Julian, to be welcomed into his orbit, are bouncing off of him when he least expects it, like the fat, pollen-laden bumblebees zig-zagging and falling drunkenly off the flowers in the back garden.

He forgets what to do with his hands when Julian looks at him a second longer than he’s expecting, fidgets more than usual when Julian rests his arm around him on the back of the sofa, feels himself start to go red when Julian laughs in delight at his quips as they’re jotting down ideas.

Noel feels like he’s absolutely transparent, and it’s making him as itchy as his fading sunburn.

He balances the bowl on the lip of the coffee table and peels off his t-shirt, considering whether or not to drop it in Julian’s lap. He settles for auditory bravado instead, fiddling with the hem of the shirt as he affects a tone of expectant boredom.

“Alright, go on, then.”

He nudges Julian and gestures at the aloe, settling himself onto the arm of the sofa, chest forward, arms back, legs slightly spread.

Julian looks at the tableau he’s created out of the corner of his eye. He raises a brow, but he deliberately continues to stare at the laptop screen and peck at the keys.

“Hm. Awful bossy all of a sudden. ‘You’re alright because it’s only your back. I got burnt all down the front.’ Isn’t that right?” He nods at the aloe, the hint of a grin playing around his lips. “Go ahead, you can reach.”

“Come on, Ju. I don’t wanna get my hands sticky.”

Julian laughs out loud and he knows he’s won for sure when Julian closes the laptop and sets it on the coffee table before pulling him down off the arm of the sofa and onto his lap. He moves forward for a kiss, but Julian holds him in place, far enough away that he can move his eyes wolfishly over Noel’s bare chest, up to his lips, and then pin him completely when he makes eye contact.

Before Julian can speak and ask him a paralyzing question to go with his equally immobilizing gaze, Noel leans forward. He runs his tongue around his lips and feels the flush rising on his cheeks, voice low and eyes downcast.

“Ju? Please? I know I could do it myself. I want you to.”

Julian loosens his grip, and eyes closed, Noel lets his head fall back when he feels Julian’s cool, aloe-slicked fingertip circling his nipple. He moves his hips forward as Julian traces down the muscle of his stomach. He opens his eyes in time to watch Julian slide his finger down the front of his jeans, tracing him agonizingly slowly through the denim.

The rest of the aloe is left neglected on the coffee table. When the pair are sweating and stealing lazy, open-mouthed kisses from each other as they catch their breath, Noel runs his hands over Julian’s back. He doesn’t flinch, so Noel peeks over his shoulder; he’s still a little pink, but the worst of his sunburn’s faded, and he’s covered in a galaxy’s worth of new freckles. When Noel leans back for another slow kiss, Julian skates his hand down Noel’s chest. He’s flushed high up around the base of his throat and chest from his orgasm, but his sunburn has lightened significantly over the past few days.

They’re not bright red. The weather’s supposed to break in the morning. Neither of them want to wait any longer.

*

They turn in early that night. The productive writing session of the morning burst like a bubble thanks to their aloe break in the afternoon, and after a few attempts to find the thread of the story they’d been following with the heat curling around them in the sitting room like a cat, they decided to call it a day. It’s still so hot and so humid, and Noel feels like he’s never going to calm down enough to fall asleep, anticipating what’s coming in the morning. The jokes and the story they worked on during the afternoon are buzzing in his brain, itching to be resolved. And remembering the grip of Julian’s hand on his cock during their break is making it hard for him to concentrate on slowing his breathing enough to drop into slumber.

He’s considering getting up and wandering around the cottage or peeking back up in the attic, maybe walking in the garden or down the road or even into the village, anything to distract himself or tire himself out. Before he can pull his clothes back on and remember whether it was a right or a left at the end of the road to head to town, Julian slides into the bed and rests his head on Noel’s chest in what’s become their customary position despite the heat. His hand hovers over Noel’s ribs for a moment before he sits up and looks at the nearly-faded outline of his hand. Julian leans down, and Noel can feel his measured breaths skating over his skin before he brushes one ticklish, feather-light kiss in the center of the print. They spend the rest of the night curling into each other’s gentle touches in anticipation of the morning, until they drop off to sleep.

*

The weather doesn’t break. Noel wakes a few minutes after sunrise, surfacing slowly from sleep into the thick, heavy air. He’s half-hard, and his brain feels foggy, and his limbs feel sticky. Not exactly how he pictured waking up this morning.

He stretches his back out against the mattress and brushes against Julian’s arm, pulling back before he can wake him. Julian’s lying on his stomach, face pressed into the pillows, breathing evenly. Noel considers trying to fall back into the fuzzy sleep that’s still creeping around the corners of his eyes and weighing down his limbs, hoping against hope that it’ll be cooler if he wakes later.

He tries to lie very still and match his breaths to Julian’s, and when it doesn’t work after a few minutes of concentrating, he slips out of bed and into the bathroom for a shower, hoping that the warm water will help lull him back to sleep.

He breathes a sigh of relief when the water hits his skin, standing under the spray without moving, letting it beat down on his neck and chest. The pleasant warmth on his sticky skin wipes the thoughts out of his head until he’s only feeling the water move in rivers down his arms and chest and thighs, circling into his palms and running down his outstretched fingers. He lifts his face with eyes closed to let the water wash over his lips and lashes, trying to hold onto his dreamlike state. He’s only vaguely aware of the sound of Julian padding across the tile floor and stepping into the shower behind him.

Julian bends to suck a kiss to Noel’s shoulder as he slips his hand around his cock and pulls him back, rolling his hips forward to grind into the small of Noel’s back. Noel holds his eyes shut. Any thought of returning to sleep goes down the drain as Julian starts to stroke him firmly.

Noel is torn between moving his hips forward into Julian’s fist as he starts to speed up, or pressing further back into the heat of Julian’s cock. Julian decides for him, guiding him so they’re facing each other before he presses Noel’s back against the shower wall. He starts stroking him again, building a steady rhythm up before leaning in to mouth at Noel’s collarbone. The tiles are cold against his shoulders and arse in contrast to Julian’s hot mouth, and he tenses from the contrast as steam from the warm water swirls around the pair like smoke.

Noel can feel stray droplets of water hitting his eyelids and cheeks and tongue, his mouth open and panting, wanting, as his hands slip down the smooth tile walls. Julian nips at his earlobe before running his free hand down the wet length of Noel’s chest and stomach as he kneels. Noel feels his knees go wobbly as Julian teases at the head of his cock with his tongue, lapping at him before taking him slowly into his mouth.

He can’t help it; his body is reacting faster than his pleasure-sodden brain. He involuntarily arches his hips forward with a moan, hands still planted firmly on the wall behind him, desperate to speed Julian’s movements. One of Julian’s hands comes up to his hip, pinning him firmly against the wall. Noel lets out a whimper as Julian eases back and resets the pace, the slide of his lips teasing.

Julian’s eyes are closed. There are glittering beads of water dotting his lashes, rivulets running down the hollows of his cheeks, droplets falling from the tendrils of his hair onto the constellation of freckles on his shoulders. He’s pulling himself off in rapid strokes with his other hand as he sucks. When Julian feels Noel’s eyes on him, he looks up. He strokes his thumb gently, soothingly over Noel’s hipbone as he hums around him.

Noel snaps his eyes shut. He’s almost dizzy with so much pleasure so quickly, and seeing Julian expertly work the both of them isn’t helping him maintain. When he lets out a deep groan, he can feel Julian practically grinning around him.

“Ju,” he gasps out, one hand finally coming off the wall to grasp at Julian’s on his hip, the other tugging desperately in Julian’s slippery hair. “Julian, wait. I, _oh, God, Julian_ ,” he groans as Julian purrs around him in response. “Ju, I’m gonna come in about… _fuck,_ fifteen seconds if you keep this up.”

Julian doesn’t slow. He flexes the fingers of his hand around Noel’s hip, letting Noel grab at his wrist as he taps at Noel’s hipbone rhythmically with his thumb. Noel peers down as he gently beats a slow tattoo onto his hip. _One… two… three… four… five...._

 _Oh, God, is he really… oh God._ Noel can feel his thighs tensing and he knows he’s not going to last as Julian pulls him closer. _Six… seven… eight… nine… ten...._

Julian slides off with a pop, darting his tongue out to tease the head of Noel’s cock. He stops just before Noel feels his orgasm start to creep outwards from the base of his spine. He whimpers as Julian stands. He slides his fingertips down Noel’s squirming torso, running gently over the dip of his belly button, following the trail of hair down his stomach. He stops short of his cock. 

He’s so close, literally seconds away. He screws his eyes shut, trying to will the release of his orgasm back through sheer concentration. He can practically feel the heat of Julian’s hand radiating towards his straining cock as Julian leans in to nuzzle at his ear.

“Go ahead, come” he rasps through Noel’s panting breaths. “Want you to.” He noses Noel’s head to the side to suck at his neck. “Last longer the second time.”

Noel feels his entire body tense as Julian wraps his hand around his cock, matching the shallow rhythm of his wrist to the suction on his neck. It only takes a few short strokes. He thrusts his hips up into Julian’s fist desperately, urgently, as his orgasm floods through him, coming with a choked-off cry.

Julian slows the rhythm of his fist and mouth as Noel thrusts weakly up, whimpering as he reaches the spiraling end of his orgasm. Before Noel can get his breath back, Julian kisses him, nipping at his lips as he wraps his hand, slick with Noel’s cum, around his own cock. He lets his head fall to the side as he touches himself, leaning down to burrow his face back into Noel’s neck.

Noel reaches out weakly, his limbs still limp and sodden with pleasure. He cradles the back of Julian’s head with one hand, fingers tangling in his curls, and strokes Julian with the other, needing to make Julian feel as good as he’s just made him feel.

Julian drops his hand to his side at Noel’s touch, moaning roughly as Noel takes over with loose movements. He straightens up to push his cock into Noel’s fist as his grip tightens and he starts to move more assuredly. He’s achingly close, Noel’s taste still on his tongue, his whimpers still echoing in Julian’s ears.

Noel’s pressing kisses to his face and neck and every inch of his skin that he can reach as Julian fucks into his fist. Julian squeezes his eyes shut and sucks in a breath, feeling the heat in the pit of his stomach start to uncoil and spread through his body. His mouth forms a perfect O against Noel’s temple as his cum spatters hotly against Noel’s stomach, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. 

Before he’s fully recovered, Noel pushes the two of them to stand under the hot shower spray, rinsing himself off before turning to run his hands down Julian’s torso. He grips at Julian’s biceps, stretching to kiss him languidly before running his hands down Julian’s arms, pressing down into his skin, popping his fingers over his elbow and wrist joints. It doesn’t take long for the kiss to turn heated. Julian slips his tongue into Noel’s mouth almost involuntarily, neither of them wanting to let go of the headrush of pleasure.

When they break the kiss for breath, Julian fumbles to turn the shower off as Noel reaches through the curtain for a towel. He gives his hair a rapid going-over, barely drying it, desperate as he is to get back to Julian. The ends are gently dripping onto his shoulders as he reaches up to towel Julian’s soaked curls. It gives Julian the perfect opportunity to kiss him again, the towel crumpling behind them on the shower floor as Julian’s tongue slides back into his mouth.

*

They make it out of the bathroom tangled in each other, Julian guiding Noel as he walks forward and Noel backwards, kisses frenzied. For once, the hot air does them a favor and helps dissipate the wetness of their skin.

Noel falls back onto the bed. He grips the back of Julian’s neck, trying to pull him down to resume the kiss where they left off. Julian resists. He slowly runs his eyes over the flush on Noel’s face and his wet, swollen lips.

For once, Julian doesn’t need to analyze his thoughts: he _knows_ this time around will be different. He wants to be able to close his eyes and remember this feeling of Noel on his skin years from now, wants Noel to carry the same memory of him when they’re apart. This morning, in the close heat of this room, he wants Noel to understand they have all the time in the world together. 

He brings a hand up to cup Noel’s face gently. Noel’s fingertips press needily into his neck, the muscles in his arm taut and eager. “Ju?” he questions, turning to nuzzle his face into Julian’s hand. He licks at the length of Julian’s fingers and presses kisses into his palm, not wanting to lose the feeling against his lips, trying to spur Julian into doing something, anything.

Julian moves his hand away. He guides Noel onto his back and tilts his head against the pillow, exposing the soft, smooth skin underneath his jaw. Julian kisses a long, slow strand winding down his neck, deliberately shifting from their frantic pace earlier. He waits until he feels Noel’s racing pulse calm slightly under his lips to slide on top of him and move back up to his mouth, kissing him delicately.

It’s the same way he kisses Noel on nights when he’s vibrating out of his skin, impatient to come, his focus narrowed only to his cock and Julian bringing him off quickly. Julian gives him what he wants at first, stroking him rapidly before stopping short. Then, he pins him to the wall or the mattress or the floor and enjoys taking his time, kissing him slow and long and deep, drawing his pleasure out through his entire body, until Noel’s gasping his name and coming between them. 

Julian kisses him nearly senseless, a stream of slow, lingering kisses that build off of each other, spiraling out until they’re both half-hard again in the heat. Julian reaches down, his touch tentative as he strokes Noel to fullness. His touch rouses Noel out of the dreamy haze of lust blanketing his brain.

 _It’s happening_. _We’re really going to do this._

He feels his heart start to pound again as Julian moves down his body to lavish kisses low on his stomach, swirling his tongue through the sweat suddenly covering his skin.

Noel desperately wants to break this final barrier between them. He can’t help but let his mind slip back to the flat, to drawing back from Julian’s touch, and the residual nervousness that left him feeling insignificant and small and silly afterward.

Noel _knows_ that he wasn’t ready then, and that it was okay. He _knows_ that he didn’t do anything to break their bond, that unspoken communication between them perpetually intact, but no matter the situation, no matter his successes and failures, Noel still wants to impress Julian, to be an ideal partner. He wants to do good for Julian, and with Julian. But more than anything else, he wants to be as close to Julian as possible; there’s nothing he’s wanted more deeply in his life than for it to be NoelandJulianJulianandNoel, to not be separated even by the space of a breath.

He feels comfortable with attention; he likes chatting and making friends and winning people over. It just comes naturally to him, being open. He knows Julian struggles with it, with overcoming his natural reserve and shyness to bask in the glow of connection and affection. So when Julian lifts his head to shake his hair off his forehead, and Noel catches a glimpse of the expression on his face, he feels a spike of emotion that’s so intense it’s overwhelming when combined with everything else he’s processing.

Julian’s expression is deliberate. It doesn’t waver; it’s not his usual ever-changing hundred expressions per second. There’s no mask, no hesitation, no shyness. Nothing is hidden and nothing is being held back. The look on his face is one of pure love and adoration.

This moment is everything Noel has ever wanted.

He’s not prepared. He gasps as his heart thuds into his throat, his body as taut as a bowstring, both fists clinging to the bedsheets. He feels like he’s standing at the lip of the stage and he’s going to fall with no one to catch him.

Julian pulls back from dotting kisses over his stomach and eases the rhythm of his hand as he peers up at Noel. _Oh, shit_. He’s heard him, then.

Noel tries to rearrange his features, to smooth the shock from his brow and his wide-open eyes. He snaps his eyes shut, hoping that Julian will mistake the noise for pleasure and turn his attention away from his face, give him a minute to process everything he’s feeling.

No such luck. As good as Julian is at hiding his emotions, like notes scrawled in faint pencil in the margins of the books of caution and reserve, he’s better at recognizing when Noel tries to hide his.

Julian slides up the bed and curls into his side. He playfully noses at Noel’s face until he opens his eyes.

“Hi there,” Julian says, ducking his head down to peer at him with a reassuring grin that travels the length of his face, from his mouth to his eyes. In the early morning light, there are tiny bits of green scattered in the warm brown of his irises.

Noel feels the knot in his stomach start to pick itself apart under the warmth of Julian’s gaze. “Hi,” he whispers back softly.

Julian rests his large, warm hand on top of Noel’s fist, tangled in the sheets, his arm across Noel’s stomach. Noel sheepishly drops the fabric and smooths it as Julian knots their fingers together to stop his nervous fidgeting. His voice is tinged with a blend of affection and amusement, light and banter breezy. It’s the tone he uses when Noel is nervous before going on at a gig, airy and aurally ticklish, designed to break the tension and make Noel smile.

“Those are thousand thread count. Don’t want to explain any rips to the owners; be expensive to replace. We’ll have to sell the car and hitchhike back. Shame, really, seeing how we just got rid of our sunburn.”

Noel giggles and squirms closer to Julian, letting Julian pull him to his chest and hold him. He buries his face in Julian’s neck as Julian runs a hand down his arm, over his shoulder, down his back, soothing.

“You alright? You know we don’t have to,” Julian says softly, drawing his arms tighter. “It doesn’t change anything between us.” It comes out sounding like, “It doesn’t change the way I feel about you.” He lets Noel continue to hide his face as he answers.

He bites his lip and fidgets in Julian’s embrace. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. I want to, Julian. I’m just… wandering around in my head.” He settles, takes a breath, the next words coming in his own pre-gig voice, breathy and pitched with mirth, the auditory equivalent of an affectionate, reassuring squeeze to a nervous Julian’s bicep.

“It’s like a labyrinth up there. Can’t remember if I’m supposed to be lookin’ for the minotaur or escaping from him.”

“Hmm,” Julian responds, his tone mock serious, betrayed by the smile that Noel can hear forming on his face. “Well, I noticed a ball of twine in the kitchen drawer downstairs. Probably easier to use that than try to extract individual threads from the sheets.”

Noel laughs into Julian’s neck, and when Julian leans down to kiss him, that same unmasked look of adoration on his face, he greets him with a smile.

*

Noel relaxes into the kiss. He feels his anxious thoughts slide away like an ill-fitting jacket slipping down his shoulders as Julian reaches blindly for his hand. Instead of curling their fingers together, Julian brings it to rest palm down on Noel’s chest. He sets his own fingers gently on top, guiding him softly, teasing his fingertips over his hardened nipple before sliding over his ribs and down his sweat-slick stomach. As Julian guides him, he feels the tension he’s been holding in his muscles recede, the tide lapping away from the shore pulled by the moon.

Despite the heat, his skin prickles under his palm when his fingers bump the base of his cock. He shivers as his eyes fall closed. Julian wraps his hand over the top of Noel’s, then guides their hands around his cock. The pace he sets is unhurried: not enough to get off, just enough to create warm, fizzing sparks behind his eyelids, blinking and burning out like the fireflies glowing at dusk in the back garden. Julian reaches for his other hand, placing it on his chest, guiding him to tease and stroke at his own nipple.

It’s calming, steadying, touching himself like this, like Julian would touch him. It anchors him to Julian even as he leans away to reach for the lube on the bedside table.

Julian uncaps the tube, watching Noel work himself slowly. He’s biting at his bottom lip as he tries to keep steady. Julian coats his fingers in the growing morning light, and skates his free hand over Noel’s thigh. He lets his legs fall open, wrist moving weakly. Julian slips a hand around Noel’s calf to guide his knee to his chest, dipping to kiss the back of his thigh.

“Mmmm, relax. It’s okay,” Julian murmurs into his skin as he spreads the lube from his dripping fingers until Noel is slick and holding his breath. He feels his body, so calm a moment ago, tighten and tense again. He huffs out a short breath, his pleasure edging into frustration. “It’s okay. It’s okay, I’m here,” Julian breathes out against his skin.

The hand on his chest stills, and he stops stroking himself as he closes his eyes, concentrating fully on the movement of Julian’s fingertip gently circling his hole. 

This is it; they’re nearly there, so close to where he wants them to be. He has to relax, or it’s not going to work. He has to relax, or-

_Julian’s long fingers brushing his fringe back from his forehead. Wrapping him up in the duvet in his big bed, holding him until he settles and falls asleep. Pecking at laptop keys, covered in ink from a leaking pen. Thrown over his face as he bends at the waist, trying to keep in a spiraling fit of hysterical giggles. Curled around a dainty teacup, swallowing it up. Fingering at his hem and his collar before going on. Pressing him to their dressing room wall after, hands strong and sure as he takes down his zip._

Noel lets go of his cock, trying to slow his breathing. His voice is small and his fingers are damp with precum when he stretches them out.

“Ju?”

Julian pauses, lifting his head. He reaches to twine his free hand with Noel’s, gripping his palm tightly, stretching to press a kiss to Noel’s knuckles. His eyes are soft, the set of his lips reassuring.

Noel feels relief rushing through him almost immediately. Julian circles him in tighter spirals, pressing his palm steadily, until he rests his wet fingertip on Noel’s hole and slips inside him.

Julian squeezes his palm gently. “Good?” It’s half-question, half-praise, overwhelming in combination with the new sensation. He can’t manage much more than a moaned “Mmmm, s’good. Keep going” back. He gasps out a shaky breath, squeezing back as he feels Julian’s tiny, tentative motions begin to tease him open.

With one finger inside, Julian can almost imagine what the tight, hot grip is going to feel like around his cock. He shakes a sweat-soaked curl off his forehead and bites back a groan. He won’t have to imagine after this morning. He wants to be inside Noel as soon as possible, but he knows he has to go slowly, methodically, and remember to breathe, stretching him as gently as he can.

By the time Julian has two fingers inside him, Noel’s lost track of time. The bedroom is furnacelike and it’s nearly agonizing, how slowly Julian’s moving and how good it feels. Three minutes or three hours could have passed; the only constants are the choking heat, the pleasure fluttering everywhere from the back of his neck all the way down to his ankles, and Julian’s firm grasp on his hand. He blinks, trying to reorient himself, his vision hazy as Julian pauses, gently withdrawing his fingers, then untangling their hands. He quickly adds more lube and slips back in, scissoring his fingers gently. His movements are cautious and thorough and wringing out every sensation, making Noel squirm against the sheets as he rocks deeper inside.

It feels like he’s watching Julian build a fire, so precise but gentle as he gathers tinder and cups his strong hands around the spark, shielding it to softly breathe the flame into life. Noel moans, fingers curling in the damp sheets. He wouldn’t be surprised to see wavering shimmers of heat rising off both of their bodies, like hot air spiraling in a car park. 

When Julian presses a sucking kiss to the inside of his thigh and crooks his fingers, brushing over his prostate, he loses all thought. He cries out, a hand coming up to grip the base of his twitching cock. Julian does it again, his grin loose and damp against Noel’s hot skin. “Oh, God, Julian,” he pants, breath coming ragged, his eyes wild. “Julian, please… again. _Please_.”

He can’t help the whimper in the back of his throat as Julian complies, stroking over him firmly this time. “Ju,” he pants, giddy and joyful and disbelieving at once, the feeling radiating through him, pooling hotly in the base of his spine. “Feels like you’re everywhere. More, Julian, please, don’t stop.”

He starts moving in tandem with Julian’s gentle thrusts, fucking himself weakly on Julian’s callused fingers as his own drift to slip into his mouth. He bites down on the tip of his finger the next time Julian brushes his prostate, moaning around it.

Julian’s eyes are heavy-lidded when he slips a third finger inside him. Noel is so open and slick and flooded with pleasure, it barely registers. Julian nuzzles against the back of his thigh and squeezes his ankle with his free hand. “Hey,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. “You ready?”

Noel’s eyes are screwed shut, beads of sweat rolling down his neck onto his flushed chest, crisscrossing into nonsensical patterns down his stomach as his hips twitch with sparks of pleasure. His skin is luminous in the morning light, the pleasure Julian is arcing into him making his body glow like he’s been underpainted by a master. There’s a slight hollow to his cheeks as he sucks the tip of his finger. His cock is heavy and slick, catching the light in his tight grip where it’s leaked all over his stomach and down his fingers.

“Noel, hey,” Julian tries again. “Ready?” When he still doesn’t acknowledge Julian, he dips his head and gently bites at his thigh, stilling the movement of his hand.

Noel lets his finger fall out of his mouth, his hand thudding onto the mattress palm up beside him as he opens his eyes. He’s surprised at the sound of his own voice. It’s soft, but clear and coherent. It’s not a plea, it’s not begging. It’s a statement of simple need.

“Julian, please. Inside me.”

The sight and sound of Noel, laid out and open, ready to accept him, is dizzying. Overwhelming. Julian’s pulse is pounding thick in his ears as he shifts from his position, fumbling to slick his cock with lube. He groans, little anticipatory stars swirling behind his eyelids. Noel watches his brow furrow, watches the ripple of his shoulders as he touches himself. He leans his head back, a sudden intake of breath that brings the galaxy of freckles dotting his chest just below his neck into view. He’s aching to finally feel him, NoelandJulianJulianandNoel.

When Julian is slick and dripping, he opens his eyes. He runs two fingers lightly over the head of Noel’s cock, tracing down his shaft and over Noel’s wet knuckles. He brings his hand down, covered with the mixture of his leftover lube and Noel’s precum. Noel shivers, whimpering, arching his body up to meet Julian’s hand.

Julian slips between his legs, his hands spanning Noel’s waist as he slides him up through the tangled, sweat-drenched sheets toward the head of the bed. He can feel the outline of Noel’s ribcage through his hot, flushed skin, pressing up into his fingertips with every breath.

Julian steadies himself with one hand, the other resting gently on the crest of Noel’s hip. He takes his cock in hand, lining himself up, his head bumping gently against Noel’s entrance. He takes a long, even breath, reminding himself to be slow and gentle, as he inclines his hips forward.

“Wait. Julian, wait,” he hears Noel breathe. He pulls back immediately, his fingertips trailing away, brushing across Noel’s skin.

Noel is breathing quietly below him, his fist tight and immobile around his glistening cock. He lets go suddenly, and presses both palms down into the mattress, anchoring himself there. 

When he moves, he comes to rest on his elbows. His face is flushed high over his cheeks, eyes directed down shyly to the space between them.

“Come back, Ju,” he murmurs, cutting his eyes up to meet Julian’s. “I wanna see.”

Pushing up through the soft spill of pleasure laid over his features is a glint of an expression Julian recognizes from months ago. It’s the kid with his hand on the doorknob, eleven words spilling out of him, holding his breath as he waits for a response. Eleven words that Julian felt physically. Tugging at him.

_You must know._

Like a little red string wrapped around his finger.

_Once you come in._

Pulling him forward into something new and unknown and exciting and scary, pulling him home as he grinned.

 _You can never leave_.

Julian feels the same grin spread across his face as he moves back between Noel’s legs, his fingertips skating along the inside of his thighs, teasing as he spreads his legs further apart. He can feel Noel’s eyes resting on him as he lines himself up, his cock twitching as it meets Noel’s rim. The tendons in Noel’s neck are straining as he leans forward, lips parted and wet as he watches Julian begin to gently, gently sink into him.

Julian has to close his eyes at the searing rush of heat that envelopes his cock, moaning low in the back of his throat. Noel is open and wet and accepting him beautifully, but he’s so tight and hot inside; it’s a dumbing juxtaposition coupled with a headrush of sensation.

He forces his eyes open before he moves any further. Noel’s mouth is open and panting. The muscles in his thighs are quivering. It’s the look of astonished wonder on his face as he watches Julian disappearing inside him that’s enough to make Julian move, pulling him forward all over again.

He starts off with shallow thrusts, setting up a slow rhythm, easing them both into it. “God, Ju,” Noel pants out, twisted sheets in each fist, his eyes soft with pleasure. Julian is somehow matching the rhythm of his pulse with every thrust, the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears magnifying every movement Julian makes. He lets himself down off his elbows, head falling back onto the pillows behind him, eyelids flickering.

Julian picks up the pace, going a little deeper, a little faster, adjusting the angle of his thrusts, but being careful to stay short of his prostate. It’s maddening; he’s maddening, the way he’s keeping his composure, spooling out pleasure like thread, dropping lingering kisses everywhere except Noel’s lips. It’s the slow scrape of a match with the eventual promise of fire, but now that he’s inside after the slow, aching prep, Noel wants to feel him, all of him, desperately. “Julian, please,” he whimpers out. “I can’t- don’t make me wait. Please-”

He hooks his leg around Julian’s waist, sliding forward to meet his thrusts, trying to get him to press in further, deeper, faster; anything to get him to start fucking him in earnest. It’s too much and not enough and every time Julian touches his skin, he feels like he’s burning. He needs to come-

“Shhh, it’s alright. Come here,” Julian breathes back, rocking his hips gently. He guides Noel’s leg back down, leaning forward to circle an arm around Noel’s shoulders, pressing their chests together. He rests on his other arm as he sinks into him. Noel gasps; they’re so close together and he’s filling him so deeply, pressing a line of wet, hot kisses down his neck as he moves. Julian cranes up to whisper in his ear, “Shhh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” as Noel’s hand flies to cling at the base of his spine, fingers urging, willing Julian to go deeper.

Gradually, Julian begins to alternate between languid slides that fill him inch by inch, and short bursts of hard, deep thrusts that leave him vibrating with need when he stops. When Julian begins to drive into him and doesn’t slow his pace, Noel clings to him, white-knuckled. He arches up into Julian’s body, meeting him gratefully, mindlessly, his body taking over as he chases his release. Julian kisses his neck, his jaw, below his ear. When Julian hits his prostate, he shudders, his legs coming up to wrap around Julian’s waist, desperate to keep him there.

He’s close, so close, the slow creep of heat rolling inside his muscles, licking at his skin from underneath, building into flames flickering in his belly and down his spine, tingling at the back of his neck and thighs, pulsing through his cock where it’s trapped between them. As he presses his head back into the pillows, he’s vaguely aware of a quiet hushing sound filling up his ears between his own moans. It’s started to rain outside, gentle through the beams of sunlight as it drops and patters through the thick leaves outside the open window.

He tightens his grip around Julian’s waist, whimpering as Julian rocks into him, the head of his cock wedged against his prostate, the heat in his veins dizzying. He’s right on the edge, Julian there with him.

The breeze blows suddenly, cooling the sweat drenching his body for the first time in days, and it’s all too much, sensation from every direction at once. Julian deep inside him, all around him, his wet, hot mouth sucking rapidly at the pulse in his neck, his leaking cock trapped between their stomachs, the cool air falling on his sweaty skin feeling like Julian’s tongue licking him all over. He comes explosively between them, unraveling like pulled thread.

Julian rocks his hips, bringing him through it, still mouthing at his neck even as his own rhythm begins to falter. Noel is still moaning Julian’s name raggedly when he inhales sharply, gritting his teeth. He rolls his hips forward once, twice, and then he’s over the edge as Noel’s muscles clench tight around him, their lips brushing together in a shaky, fluttering kiss.

*

They listen to the patter of rain through the leaves as they come down, the steady drizzle calming their breathing. Julian rolls them onto their sides. He kisses Noel as he slips free, Noel humming his name into his mouth. He curls into Julian’s embrace, running his fingernails over the freckles on Julian’s chest.

He shivers as a cool breeze flows through the open window, passing over his damp skin. Julian almost reaches to pull the sweaty tangle of sheets over them. They’re both fucked out, overwhelmed and sleepy. It would be so easy to lean down and steal kisses and share breath until they both drifted off. He tugs the sheet loose and wipes his body down instead. Noel’s eyes are shut, close to sleep as Julian dips the sheet between his legs and cleans him gently.

“Ju,” he slurs, “we’re going to have to hitchhike back. These sheets are fucked.”

Julian snorts out a laugh as he wads the sheet up and tosses it aside. When he turns back, Noel’s asleep.

*

The rain’s still falling when Noel wakes. Julian’s gone, but his spot in the bed is warm against Noel’s fingertips. Noel stretches out languidly on his stomach, his limbs feeling weightless but heavy at the same time. He can hear the faint sound of water running downstairs. He giggles, picturing Julian naked in the kitchen, stuffing the ruined sheet in the sink, his jeans and t-shirt from earlier in the week drying draped over the backs of the kitchen chairs.

He drifts off again, waking to Julian padding across the room on bare feet. He squeezes Noel’s shoulder.

“Come downstairs, I have a surprise for you.”

Noel inhales, rolling his shoulders before hefting himself up off the bed. Julian cups a hand around his elbow and guides him down the hall. “Where we going?” he asks, still sleepy, scraping a hand across his forehead.

Julian hums. “It was going to be a surprise, but if you must know... I was going to stand you outside naked in the rain, let Mother Nature clean you off.”

Noel barks out a laugh as they round the corner to the kitchen. It’s cut short by a yawn. “You wouldn’t dare. I’d catch cold, all my bits dangling in the rain.”

Julian shrugs, quirking a brow. “Thought I could take some tasteful photographs, document your bits for posterity. With my talents, the results would be on par with fine art, really.”

Noel shakes his head, laughing silently as they pad down the hallway into the kitchen. Nothing’s different; Noel giggles when he sees the empty sink.

Julian crosses the room, heading toward the back door, committed to his riff. He swings the broom closet door open instead. Noel hears the slosh of water as Julian calls over his shoulder.

“I suppose we can spare the innocent forest creatures the show. Shame for the art lovers, though, being denied my elegant compositions.”

Noel smiles, and peeks around the doorframe. There’s an old claw foot tub in the center of the small room, steam rising from the water. Julian is leaned back languidly, his head resting on the lip of the tub.

Soon enough, he’s draped across Julian’s wet chest, Julian cupping his hands and spreading the water over his back, letting streams roll down his spine. They both settle, limbs loose and swaying in the water with the rhythm of their breathing. The rain is faint outside, tapping on the heads of the hydrangeas and the stones of the cottage.

Noel’s breath stirs the water.

“Julian?”

“Mmm.”

“What if now that we… you know....”

Julian waits.

“What if we’re not funny any more?”

Julian laughs so hard so quickly that he nearly chokes.

*

The weather cooperates for the rest of their stay. Mostly.

They write and draw and create, jotting down ideas and storylines on pads of paper left under the coffee table by the sofa, on the kitchen island, and by the bedside table. Julian lets another pot of pasta boil over when Noel leaves the door open to the broom closet, making good use of the claw foot tub; Noel surprises Julian in the shower upstairs one morning, padding in on bare feet to bring him off and then scrub his back.

On a day during their second week, they wake up feeling restless. They attempt to write until the early afternoon. The sun is shining in through the windows, bathing Julian in distorted squares of light. Noel’s stretched out on his stomach, idly filling in white space with a pen. Half his markers have rolled underneath the sofa; one lies uncapped and bleeding into spare sheets he’s torn loose from his notebook. Julian snaps the laptop shut in the glare from the light and tosses Noel his tennis shoes.

They walk out into the woods, hoping the change of scenery will spark inspiration. They go further than usual, wandering, peering at the leaves and the birds flitting in and out of the birch trees overhead. They come to a clearing at the border of the woods, flooded with violets and bluebells. A lone cow is standing in the field, bordered by a split rail fence. Noel feeds her handfuls of grass and laughs when she licks ticklishly at his bare arm.

“At least let her buy you dinner first,” Julian quips, leaning down to pull out some clover. He rests a little too long on the fence and gets his curls licked as a result, Noel dissolving into giggles as he stands with his hair massively askew. 

They trek back through the woods, not realizing how far they’d walked in their restless state. Noel flops down on the grass in the back garden underneath a willow tree. “I don’t think I can ever move again,” he groans, immediately rolling over to watch Julian when he walks out of his line of sight. 

Julian leans against the tree trunk, toeing off his shoes and socks. He spreads his legs to itch his back against the bark through his t-shirt, rolling his shoulders and nodding his head to scratch his neck. He slides down to recline against the trunk, head pillowed by the thick moss growing around the base. Noel crawls over to rest on his head on Julian’s stomach, the grass cool against the strip of skin between his t-shirt and jeans.

“You looked like a forest creature,” Noel yawns, idly pulling clover out of the ground next to them, piling his favorites on top of Julian's hand and discarding the rest.

“That’s me, alright, a powerful forest creature. They call me the stag man. Noble, majestic, king of the forests and prince of the glades. Impaling all trespassers I see with my impressive horns, marking my territory with my potent scent glands, full to bursting with my juicy essence.”

Noel wrinkles his nose in laddish delight, his chest starting to move with laughter before he makes any sound. “Eau de stag man. That’s awful, Julian.” 

He squeaks when Julian grabs at him, squeezing him to his chest. "How dare you disrespect the all-powerful stag man in his domain?” Noel laughs breathlessly, squirming in Julian’s grasp. “Prepare to feel my mossy moves," he proclaims, his long fingers ticklish on Noel’s ribs. 

They tussle playfully, Julian’s hands coming up to muss at Noel’s hair. A piece of stray clover sticks haphazardly in his locks. Julian pauses and plucks it out, curling the strands back into place around his ear, brushing his fingertips against the edge of Noel's sideburns, smoothing down his jaw.

Noel's eyes are half-lidded when he leans forward and kisses Julian, barely pressing their lips together. It’s a wisp of a kiss, soft and fleeting. His unhurried movements take Julian completely by surprise, a slow warmth flooding through his body as Noel draws back to brush tiny kisses below his eye and over his brow.

He works his way down, bumping Julian’s jaw with the tip of his nose until he tilts his head, pressing firmer, open mouthed kisses down his neck. He skims his hands over Julian’s chest, sliding down in the grass to suck kisses along his waistband, dipping his tongue into his belly button. Julian grins above him, watching the willow fronds blow in the breeze as Noel glides his fingers over his zip.

He tugs at Julian’s jeans and then mouths him through his pants, taking his time until he’s fully hard. Noel leans his head on Julian’s thigh, catching his breath before sliding his fingers into the band of Julian’s pants, easing them down just enough to take his cock out. The slow build has Julian pressing his fingers into the cool moss below them, digging in when Noel gives him a few languid strokes. He pulls his bottom lip into his mouth in concentration, biting at it before leaning forward to press fluttery kisses around the base of Julian’s cock.

Julian’s hands come away from the ground with dirt under his fingernails as Noel laps at the tip, his breath falling hot on the exposed patches of Julian’s skin. He swirls his tongue as he starts to bob his head slowly, wrapping his hand around what he doesn’t take. Julian cups his head as he teases him, wringing out little groans from the back of his throat.

He’s pleasantly warm all over, drifting in the lazy slide of Noel’s hand and lips and tongue, stroking his fingers through the ends of his hair. He shivers as a willow leaf falls onto his hip, fingers curling around the back of Noel’s neck.

Noel smiles around him and slowly pulls off, swiping his hand over his chin. He purses his lips and blows at the leaf; it skitters across Julian’s stomach, ticklish in combination with his warm stream of breath. He dots little kisses across Julian’s thighs as he inches his jeans down further, then grips lightly at Julian’s hips to kiss at his stomach. The warmth of his chest and his throat moving against Julian’s cock is maddening; he can’t help the slightly desperate moan that slips out.

Noel sits up, grinning at him like a cat who’s dipped into the cream, not trying to hide his smile as he rubs at his jaw. There’s a spark in his eye as he looks Julian up and down. He clears his throat and stands, pulling his t-shirt off over his head, leaving it at Julian’s feet.

“Stay here, just like that. I’ll be right back.”

He jogs toward the cottage as Julian catches his breath, his jeans still halfway down his thighs. 

He’s nearly ready to get up and start searching when Noel reappears, waving enthusiastically as he crosses the garden barefoot and with his zip undone, lube and a threadbare towel in hand. He spreads the towel on the grass and trips out of his jeans, a flush spreading across his chest and up his neck, all semblance of his slow, methodic attitude gone.

He barely gives Julian enough time to lie back down before climbing on top of him, crushing their lips together. His hands are everywhere, tangling in Julian’s hair and rubbing over his nipples through his shirt. Noel huffs out a little moan, trying to keep his mouth on Julian’s while pulling at the hem of his rumpled t-shirt. He’s unsuccessful, as he’s sitting with his legs clamped firmly around Julian’s middle, his cock untouched and leaking onto the soft cotton.

Julian nearly laughs. Well. Can't blame him for being his usual energetic self. He reaches down to swat at Noel’s thighs, half-sitting to pull the shirt over his head, his movement a bit fuzzy. Noel has Julian’s jeans and pants around his ankles, the tube uncapped and his slick palm around Julian’s cock before he can lay his head back down. He groans at the touch, blades of grass poking at his back and arse through the worn towel. As much as he appreciates the slow, methodic approach, Noel’s grip is just right, sending bursts of electricity through his limbs.

He keeps his eyes closed as Noel slows and then stops, clambering back on top of him.

Julian is spread out beneath him, nipples tight and hard like the buds of a tree before it bursts into bloom, freckles spreading across his chest as thick as the carpet of bluebells in the clearing, pink-flushed cheeks set off by the deep green of the moss below him.

"You don’t look like a stag; you look like a fair lady in some medieval painting," Noel breathes, leaning down to kiss him with a measure of calm. He's cut short when Julian grabs for the lube where he’s tossed it.

"I suppose that makes you the knight in shining armor," Julian returns as dryly as he can, slicking his hand before wrapping it around Noel’s yet untouched cock. He immediately arches his back, exhaling sharply, shuffling backwards out of Julian’s reach.

He takes Julian’s cock in his hand again, half-stroking him, half-focused on scrabbling for the lube with the other. He uncaps it with his teeth, reluctant to let go of Julian for a second, humming a breathy sigh of relief when he breaks the latch. Julian concentrates on the feeling of his slick, shaking fingers and the warmth of their skin pressed together. He hears Noel shifting above him and taking a deep breath as he stops stroking him.

He teases the head of Julian's cock against his wet, open hole instead. 

Julian gasps as he feels Noel sink down onto him, his hands coming up to Noel's hips as he groans, his mind reeling. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut as Noel takes more, the sudden, unexpected heat around his cock overwhelming. 

"Couldn't wait. Was gonna 'ave you do it… mmmmm… wanted to surprise you," Noel breathes, easing down with every word. "S'why it took so long-" 

He cuts himself off, a low whine in the back of his throat as he settles in Julian's lap, his cock fully inside. 

The image of Noel shaking and sweating as he opened himself, knuckles white on the lip of the bathroom sink, gasping at himself in the old, fogged mirror sends a wave of dumb, lightheaded pleasure through Julian's body. He opens his eyes, trying to stop the dizzy feeling.

The look he's met with on Noel's face doesn't help; he's flushed and eager, but his eyes are soft and glowing and heartbreakingly proud. Julian swallows thickly and murmurs something about taking the initiative; he doesn't trust himself to move or think or breathe too suddenly, let alone speak. The tight heat around him is overwhelming; he runs the pads of his thumbs over Noel's hipbones, trying to center the both of them. He leaves a streak of dirt on his pale skin. Noel shivers at his light touch, clenching around him and whimpering instead of calming. 

For a moment, both of them freeze, the only movement they make their pitched breathing and the rapid blink of Julian's eyes. Noel's still looking at him dreamily, his lips wet and parted.

The breeze whispers through the willow, breaking the spell as it jostles the fronds around them. When Noel makes a tiny movement with his hips, ready to move but unsure of his rhythm, Julian guides him, hands settling over his hips delicately. "Mmmmm," he breathes at the touch, starting to rock back onto Julian's cock, lifting his hips as he finds his pace.

Now that Julian's inside him, his frenzied movements from earlier have calmed. He rides Julian almost cautiously at first, rolling his hips as he slowly eases himself into a trancelike rhythm.

"Is this okay? You okay?" Julian breathes out. "Amazing," he sighs. "You're amazing." His grip tightens on Noel's hips as he starts to move faster, letting his body guide him as he gradually speeds up his movements, the sunlight falling on his back, basking in the light and the heat building between them.

When Noel's nearly there, his heartbeat in his ears and his legs trembling and tired, he moans out, "Close." He falters in his rhythm as he leans forward, resting his palms in the grass either side of Julian, his voice a low whine. "'M so close, Julian-"

Julian can feel his breath coming in a hot, sudden rush, scorching his chest as he rocks his hips and moans, the tone of his voice the same as the nights when Julian’s brought him to the edge, achingly slow.

Julian slides his feet up, feeling the soft, thin towel tickling at his bare soles, until his knees are bent and he feels steady enough to thrust up. "Oh, God, Julian, right there, please, right there," Noel moans, holding himself up on shaking arms.

Julian feels the grass prickling at the base of his spine and the cool pillow of moss at the back of his neck. He concentrates on that, trying to hold back the swirling rush of heat building between them. It's exquisite and agonizing; he thrusts up into the wet heat again and again, until he's biting his lip and Noel's babbling a hissed stream of "Julian, yes, please, please, please," his voice low and sweet.

Julian doesn't want this afternoon to end, doesn’t want these two weeks to end, but his own release is so close, and the entire world shrinks down to where he's filling Noel as Noel's voice fills his ears. His fingers brush Noel's stomach as he seeks between them for his cock. Noel whines at the touch; Julian barely strokes twice him before he cries out and comes, clenching hot and tight around Julian. The way he moans Julian's name, the way it pours out of his throat and washes over Julian like a flood destroys him, sends him over the edge. His hips buck up as his cock pulses, Noel’s name falling out of his lips.

Noel drops onto his chest, panting, his hands seeking Julian's.

"S'all for you, just for you, Julian," he slurs. "Always for you."

*

The kitchen is dark when they trip back inside, Noel giggling and stumbling as Julian half-carries, half-drags him. He’d slipped up behind Julian as he stood and stretched and pulled his jeans and pants back up, sliding his hands into Julian’s front pockets and peppering his back with kisses as he tried to put his t-shirt back on. Julian settled for slinging the shirt over his shoulder after Noel refused to let go, not even to walk the short distance back inside, the feeling of Julian’s warm, solid back against his bare chest too good to interrupt.

He presses his body into the curve of Julian’s back as he rinses the dirt and bits of stray moss out from under his nails in the sink. Julian can feel him giggling into his shoulder, his voice muffled as he tries to keep it level.

“Julian? You might want to plug that when you’re done. I didn’t want to tell you outside where the sparrows might have heard and gossiped to the kingfishers, but you’ve got grass stains all over your arse.”

Julian nods, letting the water run through his fingers before reaching for the plug. “Uh huh. Now I understand why you were so eager to try that position.” He shakes his head, biting his lip to stop the smile forming on his face when he catches their reflection in the window. He can make out bits of Noel’s hair gone askew over his shoulder as he clings to him. “Only wanted to be on top to avoid wrecking your wardrobe,” he tuts.

“As if!” Noel cackles, pressing his fingers into Julian’s thighs through the thin material of his pockets.

“You know you’re going to have to give me my jeans back eventually, unless you’re going in the sink for a soak in cold water too,” he shrugs, unable to keep the smile out of his voice as he watches Noel’s arms tighten around his waist. 

He stills as Julian fills the sink, his breath skating over Julian’s neck, trying to soak up the closeness before letting go. He rests his cheek against the t-shirt slung over Julian’s shoulder for a millisecond before drawing back.

“Ju? Do willow trees make sap? Because your shirt’s all sticky too.”

*

They come back for two weeks out of every year to write for years, Noel falling asleep during the car ride down, Julian waking him by slipping the keys into his palm each time. There are more mornings that they wake tangled on the sticky, squeaky leather of the sofa, smiling shyly at each other with pens and paper left abandoned on the coffee table. There are afternoons spent in the woods and afternoons that they prop themselves up in the claw foot tub. The afternoons that slip into evenings as they tangle themselves together in the bedroom upstairs are their favorites. And there are neverending streams of words and concepts and ideas and thoughts that intertwine like threads weaving together.

They come back for two weeks out of every year to write, until they don’t. The spring rain still patters through the leaves of the tree outside the bedroom window, hushed like quiet breathing. Moss grows on the roof tiles in a slow, thick creep, reclaiming the furrows in the ground under the willow tree. Time stretches around the sundial in the back garden, skating. Waiting.

_"Went out walkin' through the wood the other day  
Can't you see the furrows in my forehead?  
What tender days we had, no secrets hid away  
Now it seems about a hundred years ago" _


	2. Moonlight Mile

_“I am just living to be lying by your side  
But I’m just about a moonlight mile on down the road” _

[Moonlight Mile - the Rolling Stones](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bq4Q69_mdZw)

“This alright?” Noel asks, peering at the camera lens as he sits, shifting in his chair. The operator gives him a thumbs up as the interviewer shuffles through her notecards, smiling and ready to begin. He smiles back, then scrapes his chair closer to Julian’s anyway, until their knees bump together.

Today’s round of interviews have been business as usual: all straightforward, standard questions. Well, the new set of straightforward, standard questions. “What can you tell us about your new project? Why did you decide to come back now? And how did it feel to write together again after all this time?” Noel handles them with an enthusiastic grin, Julian nodding and embellishing, punctuating his thoughts with his hands.

But this time, with this interviewer, it’s slightly different.

Noel leans forward, taking off his cowboy hat to ruffle a hand through his hair as he winds up his answer to the last question. Of course they were shy at first, like kids who haven’t seen each other in a while, but once they got back in a room together, it was easy. It flowed, like writing for the radio series and the pilot.

“Oh yes, speaking of,” the interviewer smiles. “You wrote what would become parts of the radio and TV series at a cottage, correct? Not much about that out there in the Boosh lore, although you used to go every year to write? And you went back this spring?”

“Yeah,” Noel smiles, leaning back in his chair, his elbow bumping Julian’s as he puts his palm up to rest his chin. “We did, din’t we, Jun?” he slurs, his hand coming up to cover his lips.

“Mmm,” Julian says, tugging at the striped tee peeking out of his buttondown. “We did. It was funny - when we came back the first time and things started picking up, everyone wanted to know all about it, like we’d stumbled on some place that had granted us special powers.”

Noel interjects, dropping his hand down a bit, his tone gently mocking their fellow comedians and peers, desperate to learn their secret. “‘It must be the time slot they have! Or the places they’re playing, or, oh, no! It must be the place they wrote at.’”

Julian gestures, palm open, before smoothing his palm over the velvety shaved side of his head. “It was really the strength of the material we’d come up with together.”

Noel nods, his lips pursed as he eyes Julian, chin still resting in his hand.

Julian quickly scratches at his face before dropping his hand back down to his lap. “Really, the most memorable bits of that first trip were the weather was a bit weird, and I had to buy a new wardrobe when we got back.”

“He’s still wearing the shirts today,” Noel giggles. His expression, looking at Julian like he hung the moon, says something else entirely. 

*

“Howard and Vince drink a potion” is scrawled in Noel’s handwriting at the top of the notepad, the letters tangled where it rested unevenly on Julian’s chest. “They make love,” is followed in Julian’s steady hand. Noel finds the pad where it lies knocked over the side of the bed, on the morning they’re set to leave for the first time. The idea is unfinished on paper.

 _“Yeah, I'm coming home  
_ _‘Cause I'm just about a moonlight mile on down the road”_


End file.
